


But your eyes don't shine like they used to.

by Tyger_Tyger



Series: Keep me coming back to you [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Catholic Guilt, Complete, Grief/Mourning, I suck at spelling don't shoot me, M/M, Masturbation, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Shameless Smut, Stealing song lyrics for titles, Where have all the plots gone, all the feels, i suck at summaries, more tags as we go, sequel will be powered by kudos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyger_Tyger/pseuds/Tyger_Tyger
Summary: Someone needs to tell these boys that they're in love.That's basically it, two guys in love who can't admit it. There will be smut. There will be angst. There will be pining. There will be a general adherence to cannon up until present films (at time of writing, that is CACV).First time writing in this fandom and I have no idea what I'm doing. Also I'm blatantly stealing song lyrics for titles and chapter headings because I have no imagination. Main title is from The Jezebels 'Be a Star'.Feedback received with love and chewed nails. And will also make me write more.





	1. How easy you are to need

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title taken from 'It will come back' by Hozier.

Steve was sat on his bed reading a comic when Bucky came careening in through his bedroom door, short of breath and colour high on his cheeks.

“Your Ma’s at work, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied, looking at him with guarded suspicion. “Gets off at midnight.”

“Great!” Bucky grinned, shucking off his jacket and pulling something from the pocket. “Pete from number 10 found his brother’s blue magazine, said we’ve got until he gets here before he’s gonna take it back, s’why I ran all the way.”

“Bucky!” Steve exclaimed, then irritated at his own scandalised tone. “What you bring it here for?”

“Cuz I figured your Ma was working, and we couldn’t get a minute on our own at my place with the girls all fussing.” he said, snatching Steve’s comic from him and scooting him closer to the wall so he could sit beside him. And of course it wouldn’t have occurred to Bucky to look at the damn thing by himself. They shared everything else down the middle, so why not this? Even though it tugged that sickly scared feeling deep in Steve’s belly even tighter, made him feel like he was about to get caught doing something far worse than looking at dirty pictures.

Bucky laid it out on the bed in front of them, turning to Steve and looking like he’d just won a prize and found a dollar all at once. The cover had a picture of a lady in just her underwear, arms stretched behind her head and smiling knowingly at the camera. 

“Your Mom would whack you so hard around the ear if she knew you had this.” 

“Yeah, well that’s another reason we ain’t taking it to mine. Now Pete’s a bit of a porker so I reckon we got ten minutes before he gets here.”

“Jeez, Buck.” Steve said quietly as Bucky started turning the pages. There were bare breast and stockings and women touching each other, and Steve could feel his blush getting redder and creeping lower to his neck. The next page had a lady completely naked, laying on her side with one leg held up, and Steve and Bucky both froze for a moment.

“What the hell is that?” Steve whispered.

“Well, I guess that’s where you stick it in.” Bucky replied without his usual bravado. 

“Christ.”

A minute later they made it to the centre spread. The girl was leaning over the back of a chair, long legs ending in the gap between her stocking and her panties. She was twisting around to face the camera, her breast high and round, and her mouth was open around a cheeky grin.

“Jesus, that’s the one.” Bucky said, spinning the magazine lengthways and scrambling to undo his pants. “I gotta get off, come on Stevie, you too.”

“Buck!” Steve exclaimed, panic rising in his chest. “What are you doing?”

“Come on, don’t be a knucklehead. When else you gonna get a chance to?”

And there was no way Bucky actually realised the double meaning of that last part. When else was Steve going to get a chance to watch Bucky like this? He’d already got his hand in his underwear, and Steve could see it fisted and working up and down. Bucky’s breath caught around a moan, and he met Steve’s eye smiling.

“Come on Steve, it feels good. It’s ok, don’t really make you blind.” he said with a wink.

“I know that.” Steve replied petulantly. Bucky closed his eyes, hand working quickly, and Steve could feel it rising in him, that want he didn’t really understand, just felt. His own palm was pressing at his crotch, unconsciously trying to relieve the pressure there, and it wasn’t that he was stupid. He knew what he was supposed to feel like when he saw a picture of a naked lady, but it was like the wires got crossed somewhere and instead it was the thickening sound of Bucky’s breathing, the tiny noise he made deep in his throat which was getting him hard. 

And Bucky had his eyes closed anyway, so what harm would it do. Steve pushed his hand beneath his underwear, gripped himself tightly and started jerking off. Bucky honest to God groaned, and Steve couldn’t stop looking at him then, how his brow was frowning slightly, his mouth open around those little noises, and he came so quickly it almost took him by surprise. Bucky finished with a sign through pursed lips, then looked at Steve with a huge grin like they’d just gotten away with something, like they’d just stepped off the Cyclone. 

“See, told you.” Bucky said, nudging him with an elbow and wiping his hand on his underwear. 

“Told me what?” Steve asked, his mind feeling pretty blank and not able to keep up. He couldn’t stop thinking about those little moans.

“That it was good!” he said, scooping up the magazine and flicking through the remaining pages, all energy and bounce while Steve felt like a train had just ploughed through his head. 

“Jeez Buck, I do know what it does you know, I’m not an idiot.” Steve said, trying to adjust himself around the wet patch in his underwear.

“Could have fooled me, pal. Hey, look at this dame’s -”

“Bucky Barnes, you get out here now!” came a rather breathless shout from outside.

“Shit, Pete’s here already.” Bucky said, stretching towards the window and looking out onto the street. He grabbed his jacket, trying to stuff the magazine back in one of the pocket while also trying to get his arm all the way through and ended up just spinning around a few times like a dog chasing it’s tale. Steve rolled his eyes and opened the window, wincing at the way his underwear clung to his thigh. 

“Hey Pete!” he shouted.

“Rogers, you get that fat-head down here! My brother’s gonna kill me.” Pete shouted, face red and hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Yeah, alright. He’s coming now.”

“Hey, you want some dinner later? I’ll get Ma to put by something for you and bring it over.” Bucky called back, already running for the stairs.

“Yeah, sure Buck.” Steve said, sitting back down heavily on the edge of the bed, hearing the two boys bickering outside and running off together. He thought maybe this was how the moon felt on those evenings when it ghosted in the sky, watching the sun set out of reach. 

 

“Steve, come on!” Bucky said with his most persuasive grin. “It’ll be great, Rita’s cousin is a doll, she’s gonna love you.”

“Yeah, what’s she gonna love Buck? What tall tale you make up this time, huh?” Steve replied, rinsing off the last of the suds from the dinner plates.

“Hey, I do not. I just told her the truth – you’re a great guy, quite the artist, perfect gentleman.” Bucky said, counting off the attributes on his fingers like the wise guys at the second hand car lot. “She’s gonna like you, we’ll have a swell time.”

Steve turned to look at Bucky where he sat at the small table shining up his shoes. He smiled all teeth and bright eyes, and Steve didn’t intentionally do this – resist Bucky in something that he wanted, but the way he tried to convince him, cajole him into agreement was intoxicating, and Steve hated that there was a part of him which craved it. It was the same charm he played on the girls, persuading them to stay one drink longer, one more dance, just one little kiss, and the way Bucky tilted his head so he looked up through his eyelashes just hit Steve right in the chest. 

Steve raised his eyebrows sceptically, and it was enough to break through Bucky’s act.

“All right, fine.” Bucky said, rolling his eyes and dropping his shoe to the floor. “Rita’s old man caught her coming home last time we went dancing and now she’s not allowed out without a ‘chaperone’. So she’s gotta go with her cousin, so the only way I can take her out is if you come along to keep the cousin company.”

“Yep, there it is.” Steve said, tossing the dish towel on the side. 

“Ah, gimme a break Stevie. Please? I’ll make it up to you.”

Steve leant back against the sink and crossed his arms. Bucky was sat on the least broken of their chairs, cuffs open and sleeves yanked up as he leant forward on his knees. He looked at Steve expectantly hopeful, top few buttons undone and a streak of dark hair falling towards his eyes.

“Ok.” Steve sighed after a pause.

“Great!” Bucky exclaimed, jumping up and slapping Steve on the shoulder. “We’re meeting the girls at the dance hall at eight. You want me to do your shoes while I got it all out?”

“Yeah, sure, why not.” Steve deadpanned.

“Don’t sulk Steve, it don’t suit you.”

“You got polish on your shirt.” Steve said, pointing to Bucky’s chest as he turned to go and get changed.

“What?” he said, trying to look without touching his clothes with dirty hands. “I do not.”

“Made you look!” Steve shouted back as the door closed behind him. 

He opened up their wardrobe and pulled out his best jacket. Well, the one with the fewest holes. He listened to Bucky whistling and singing to himself in the other room. This was going to be a nightmare and he knew it, always was. He could time it just right by now, predict to the second when the expression on the face of the double date would fall at the sight of him. He couldn’t even hold it against them most of the time, what girl wouldn’t expect Bucky’s pal to be just like him. Not skinny as hell and probably shorter than her, all elbows and hands in pockets. 

Bucky had been out with Rita a couple of times, had come home afterwards practically swooning over her. Steve always tried to tamp down on the thing that felt like jealousy which that usually caused. Sometimes it was easier to pretend he was jealous of Bucky, of being looked at like something wanted, of being kissed and coyly waved at on the doorstep instead of a cold cheek and a goodbye somewhere between pity and disdain. It was easier that way. 

Steve made his way back out to the main room to find Bucky finishing up both their shoes.

“Hey Steve, put some of my pomade through your hair before we go out.”

“Ah, I’m not doin’ that Buck, it’ll make a mess of the pillow.”

“Steve! These are classy dames pal, you gotta look the part.”

Steve sighed and gave him a look which said yeah right, as if it’d make any difference anyway, which had Bucky barging past him to the little shelf and mirror in their room grumbling about making the right impression. Steve screwed his face up while Bucky scraped his hands through his hair, spreading the thick wax around and attempting to smarten him up.

“You look like a cat that got it’s tail caught in a door.”

“Bucky, I don’t know why you’re bothering with -”

“Look, Annie’s real class, she’s a secretary in some smart office uptown, always looks good.”

“Well she’s gonna be real disappointed when she sees who you brought along. Why don’t you take one of the guys from work with you instead, why you gotta take me with you every time?”

Bucky looked at him like he just suggested he take his own mother dancing.

“Are you nuts? I’m not taking any of those sleazes out with nice girls like Rita and Annie. ’Sides, it’s you and me pal. Always has been, always will be.”

Steve grumbled some more about his hair, tried not to let those words have more weight than Bucky meant them to have. 

“Now Annie’s a couple years older than Rita so she’s used to a gent, not a punk ok? So you gotta talk smart, tell about all them books you read, talk about art or somethin’. And if she wants to kiss you then you gotta do it, none of this ‘not on a first date’ crap you keep pullin’. Don’t give me that look, Rogers.”

“Buck, I’m not gonna kiss a girl just because it’s what I’m s’posed to do.”

“Well why else you gonna kiss her? Look, you just got to get the balance right, not just a peck on the cheek but no tryin’ to taste her tonsils either.”

“Well how to hell am I meant to know that?”

“Steve, you’ve kissed girls before, don’t play dumb. Just let her take the lead, unless she wants you to take the lead, then just go with it.”

“Bucky, stop, this is going to be a disaster.” Steve said, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“What do you mean, it’ll be fine!” Bucky laughed, grabbing hold of Steve’s arm. “Calm down, pal. What are you so worked up about?”

“I only ever kissed one girl Buck, I don’t even know how to talk to a lady let alone know whether or not she wants me to kiss her.”

“You only kissed one girl?” Bucky asked, eyebrows high and eyes widening as he took hold of both of Steve’s arms. Steve looked down at the floor, embarrassed and irritated. “What, that time you kissed Margie on the playing field? Jeez, Stevie that don’t even count, Margie stuck her tongue down the throat of every boy in our class, like kissing a fish gaspin’ for air. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What, just so you could talk some girl into kissing me as favour?” Steve retorted, jaw getting set at that angle which meant he was squaring up for a fight. Which meant Steve’s pride was hurt enough to rile him up, and unless Bucky handled it right he’d end up with a miserably pouting Steve bringing the evening to a pretty early end. 

“Ok, ok just cool it. Listen, it’s no big deal. I’ll show you, nothin’ to it.”

“Ah Buck, get lost.” Steve said, face darkening as he shrugged himself out of Bucky’s grip and turned away.

“Hey come on, don’t be like that.”

“Buck, I don’t need you to fool around like when we were kids, I don’t know why you even bother trying to set me up with some girl all the time, it can’t be doing great things for your reputation. ‘Oh, don’t go dancing with that Bucky Barnes, he’ll only bring along his poor sap of a friend, hangs around him like a lost puppy and wouldn’t know what to do with a dame if he had a manual.’”

“You think I give a shit what they say?”

“Well maybe you should!” Steve shouted, spinning around with his hands up in frustration.

“Steve, ain’t you always saying people should be able to do what they want so long as no one gets hurt, no matter what anyone else thinks? Who gives a fuck what other people says about it – what’s any guy want more than takin’ a couple of pretty girls out dancing with his best pal, huh?”

Something fell from Steve’s face then, like all the fight had dropped out of him. Bucky frowned, not sure what that meant because Steve never backed down from anything even if he was sure to loose.

“Yeah, of course Buck.” Steve said quietly, closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly. “Sorry, I’m just – forget I said anything, ok? I’m gonna just go down the hall and clean up bit.”

“Sure, pal.” Bucky said, completely unsure what had just happened but reluctant to press it, something about the lines in Steve’s brow reminding him of broken conversations and drunken thoughts he’d rather not remember. 

Steve closed the door softly as he left to go to the shared bathroom, locked himself inside and splashed cold water on his face. He was so stupid. Stupidly proud and stupidly sentimental, to be clinging on to some silly feelings left over from when they were kids. He shouldn’t even let himself think about Bucky in that way, two guys couldn’t ever be together even if they both wanted to be, not unless they lived like those old queens over in South Village. And all Bucky wanted was a girl on his arm and another giving him a little wave over her shoulder.

When he went back to the apartment Bucky was still shining Steve’s shoes. He looked up at him, almost wary. Steve smiled, put his hands on his hips.

“Come on then, Buck. You gonna show me how the hell I’m meant to stop this date turning into a disaster?”

Bucky grinned with that smile of his which made his eyes wrinkle in the corners. He wiped his hands off on the cloth and stood, gesturing for Steve to come over.

“Nothing to it, Steve, easy as pie. You just gotta read the signs. When it comes to saying goodnight, put your hand on her elbow like this, see. Then if she stays where she is or moves backwards you lean in and kiss her on the cheek real quick.”

“Well I think I’m alright with that one, Casanova.” Steve said with a smile which didn’t reach his eyes. Bucky’s hand was warm on his arm, fingers gripping gently and brushing against his ribs.

“Ok, ok, I’m about to share my best moves with you here, have a little patience.” Bucky said, all smiles and jokes now the air between them was clear again. “So if she moves towards you – move into my hand like you wanna be closer, that’s it – then you look her in the eyes. If she’s looking up at you, and there’s a little bit of smile there – then you know you’re on to a winner. But you don’t just jump on in there, run you hand up her arm real gentle until you’re at her shoulder like this. Then, if she’s still looking at you like she’s happy, you lean in slow and kiss her.”

“Which way do I lean?” Steve asked, suddenly aware he was staring at Bucky’s mouth and darting his eyes away

“What?”

“Well, how do I know I’m not gonna bump noses with her?” 

“You just go the opposite way to how she’s leaning.”

“That’s sounds complicated.” Steve said, torn between looking at Bucky’s lips or his eyes.

“Ok, look – noses don’t get in the way, even a beak like yours. Lean in and kiss me.”

“What?” 

“Hang on, let me crouch down a bit so you’re taller.” 

And Steve must have been gone in the head already, because that sort of comment would usually have gotten at least a token retaliation. Instead he just watched wide eyed as Bucky bent at the knees and looked up at him, face tilted up like a movie star in a close-up.

“Kiss me.” he said. 

Steve swallowed, felt the blood drain from his face. He leant forward, gently pressed his lips to Bucky’s. And it was familiar and new, as Bucky moved his lips against his slightly, aligning their mouths and pressing into the kiss. It was nothing like when they were kids, that had been all hidden grins and Steve’s stomach flipping like the drop on the Cyclone, curiosity and competitiveness pushing them to outdo the other. This felt real, so real that Steve wanted to pull Bucky closer, slide his fingers through his hair where it shortened towards the back of his neck. And then Bucky slipped Steve’s lower lip between his own, and there was his tongue pressing to his mouth and the sound Steve made wasn’t quite a whimper but it almost was, and it was enough to break the moment, suddenly too real between them.

Bucky pulled back, straightening to his full height with a grin and a laugh, brushing off the sudden weight of the air around them. 

“See, told you it was easy, you’re a natural.” he said, smiling light and easy even though he didn’t quite meet Steve’s eye. Steve couldn’t stop looking at his lips, wet and bright from the kiss, and Bucky shoved him with a laugh.

“Come on you mook, get your shoes on. We don’t wanna be late.”

They weren’t late but the girls were there early. Turned out that Annie was too classy to dance in the sort of places her cousin preferred, which worked out pretty well for Steve because they spent the evening talking while Bucky swung Rita around the dance floor. By the time the pair came back to the table, breathless and with a sheen of sweat about them, Annie was giving Steve those soft smiles he wasn’t used to seeing, and when they left she slipped her arm through his as they walked the girls home. She was only an inch or so taller than Steve, and when they were saying goodnight she ducked her head a bit and looked up at him through her eyelashes and when Steve kissed her it was chaste and sweet and perfect. 

After the girls had gone inside Rita’s place and they’d made it around the corner of the street Steve let the smile spread over his face. 

“What did I tell you, Steve.” Bucky said, grinning and knocking their shoulders together. “What did I say, huh?”

“I think she might like me, Buck.” Steve said, feeling something swell in his chest and try to burst out of his throat.

“I’ll say pal! I saw the way she was looking at you.”

“What way?”

“Like she likes you, dummy! My work here is complete, Stevie. I got to dance all night with Rita, got you a second date and your first real kiss.”

Steve tried to ignore the way that last bit made the joy in his chest sink a little. Kissing Annie was nice, but it hadn’t felt as real as him and Bucky in their shitty little kitchen holding each other by the arms and breathing each other’s breaths. 

“Yeah, thanks Bucky.” Steve said, not letting his conflicting feelings show in his voice. 

“Hey, what are friends for huh?”

Steve found it strange at first, the slow realisation that Annie sort of wanted him around. That she actually liked him, wasn’t just going through the motions for the sake of a double date. They had a nice time together, enjoyed each other’s company, talked about art and books, and she didn’t think it was crazy for a poor kid from Brooklyn to think he could make it as an artist one day. 

Rita’s dad still didn’t trust Bucky as far as he could throw him, which Steve thought was probably pretty smart of him, so they still had to all go out together. On their fourth date they’d been for burgers and milkshakes, then Bucky and Rita had danced for hours while Steve and Annie talked and laughed over a few drinks. 

They were walking the girls home, the four of them forming a line on the empty sidewalk laughing and joking. Bucky was telling a story about some containers getting mixed up at the docks and some swanky businessman ending up with a shipment of bananas instead of a swish new car, and the girls were cracking up and Steve was laughing even though he’d heard it a hundred times because the look Bucky pulled pretending to hold up a banana was pretty priceless. 

Rita stopped to catch her breath, hand on her side laughing, and they were by a back alley behind two tall rows of buildings when Steve heard a grunt and scuffle of feet. Steve took a step closer squinting into the darkness, trying to make out what had made the noise.

“You hear that, Buck?” he said. 

“S’probably nothin’, come on.” he said, grabbing Steve by the arm as they all heard another groan and the unmistakable sound of someone being shoved up against a wall.

“No, I think someone’s being beat up.” Steve said, shaking Bucky off him and walking towards the alleyway. 

“Steve! For Christ sake, just leave it.” Bucky hissed, torn between dragging Steve away and keeping the girls happy. They were exchanging glances now, looking half worried and half bemused.

Steve crept into the shadow of the buildings, walking towards the noises. Somebody whimpered and there was heavy breathing and the scrape of bodies against the brickwork. 

Bucky suddenly grabbed his shoulder, spun him round, face furious, and the girls were right behind him, following them both into the alley. Steve realised how stupid he was being then, he was supposed to be looking after Rita, not running off to try and help someone like he would if he was on his own. He was about to whisper an apology and rush them all back to the street when they all froze, hearing a loud moan which didn’t sound like someone in distress. They all took a silent step closer, curious like kids who’d heard something they shouldn’t have, and saw two men against the fire escape, one with his pants halfway down his legs and the other on his knees in front of him, working his head up and down on the other man’s dick. The guy laced his fingers through his hair, moving his head at a different pace and groaning as his hips jerked forward, and Steve felt it like a punch in the gut, felt want like it was visceral, wanted that to be his hands in Bucky’s hair, Bucky’s mouth stretched around him and panting at his feet.

Steve was frozen to the spot, and Bucky hauled him backwards and back out to the street. Steve stared at the ground as they all quickly walked away, face pale and hands hanging by his sides. Rita was giggling, covering her mouth and gripping Bucky’s arm and Bucky was grumbling about Steve not being able to stay out of trouble if he had a map. Annie’s heels echoed on the sidewalk and she was hissing angrily. 

“Don’t know why you think this is funny, Rita May, it’s just disgusting.”

“Jeez Annie, no one calls me that except Ma when she’s mad.”

“Well I am mad at you, it’s not something to laugh about. Two men together like that, it’s not right, we shoulda called the cops or something.”

“Aw Annie, don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Bucky said, trying to placate the situation, trying not to look at Steve’s face which was just becoming more and more ashen. 

“No I don’t think it’s a bit much, James Barnes.” she said, stopping in her tracks, hands on hips and livid. Rita rolled her eyes and Bucky rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “That sort of sinful, degenerate behaviour should not be tolerated.”

“Jesus Christ, will you come on. Don’t get her started, ok? She’ll be on her soapbox all night.” Rita said, linking their arms together. “You boys go on home, this is our block.” She leant forward and kissed Bucky quickly on the lips and smiled as she tugged Rita along with her.

“Ok, doll. See you soon.” Bucky said. Steve was staring at a crack in the sidewalk like he wanted to crawl into it. “Come on Steve.”

Steve followed him a step behind, hands deep in his pockets and eyes fixed on the ground in front of him, face leaden. Bucky didn’t say anything for a while, torn between trying not to acknowledge the storm which was brewing between them, wishing they could just get through the rest of the night without it breaking. A couple of blocks later Steve started to match his pace.

“Come on then, Buck. Out with it.”

“Out with what?” Bucky replied wearily. 

“You’re gonna yell at me for nearly getting the girls mixed up in trouble when I shoulda been looking out for them instead.”

“You think that’s why I wanna yell at you?” Bucky replied around a bitter laugh.

“No, I think you wanna yell at me because your pissed you won’t get to fuck Rita now that you know I won’t go out with Annie anymore, but you won’t actually say that so it’ll be about something else.”

Bucky span on his heals and grabbed a hold of Steve’s jacket.

“You watch your mouth, pal.” he said, voice low with warning until he saw the look deep in Steve’s eyes, hidden behind the anger. “Jeez, why do you do this to yourself?” he said, too much feeling in his voice and instantly regretting it as he watched Steve’s face twist up.

“Do what, Buck?” he spat, shoving Bucky away from him harshly. “Do what?”

“For the love of God Stevie, just leave it will you? Let’s just get home.”

“Come on, you wanna yell at me. So yell at me some, tell me all the ways I always screw stuff up for you, how I can’t leave well enough alone and it’ll get me killed one day.”

Bucky stopped and looked at him, knew his own expression was giving too much away, was too soft and sympathetic.

“Stevie, look at you face. I’m not gonna yell at you, it’d be like kicking a puppy or something.”

“Fuck you.” Steve hissed, rushing at him and grabbing handfuls of his shirt. “Fuck you. I’m not some little kid you’ve gotta take care of anymore.”

“Aw Christ, Steve. I didn’t mean anything by that, this is me you’re talking to. You got nothing to prove to me.”

“Don’t I.” Steve said flatly, the strength leaving his grip as he dropped back down onto his heels, and there were tears in his eyes, and Bucky just looked away because he was a coward. Steve took a step back and Bucky wanted to reach out to him, wanted to hold him close and tell him everything was ok, everything would be ok so long as they just didn’t talk about this. 

Steve rubbed his face with both hands, made some noise between a growl and a sigh and turned away to start walking back home. Bucky followed, hands in his pockets, trying not to think too much.


	2. Seems to help the feeling slide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here's the angst. And stupid boys in love but refuse to do anything about it.
> 
> Title from Placebo 'Without You I'm Nothing'

In the end Steve didn’t need to come up with an excuse for not seeing Annie anymore, Bucky had taken care of it without them even talking about it. Which was just as well, because Steve didn’t feel much like talking. Rita had a friend who’d just started courting some guy Bucky vaguely knew from the dancehalls, so with the don’t-ask-don’t-tell way these things went Bucky and Rita were double dating with them instead.

Steve went back to not waiting up when Bucky went out, but not managing to sleep either. It was easier this way, easier to focus on his drawings, try to complete his portfolio. And if his pencil still had a tendency to form the sweep of Bucky’s eyelashes, the angle of his jaw, the smooth points of his smile – well. He just kept tucking those pages away in the box of sketches he kept under the bed, the ones which would never be good enough to use but had a secret little place in his heart anyway. He’d gotten used to hiding things, remembers doing it from an early age.

He remembers being six, skinny and shivering with a split lip, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t cry in front of the scrappy kid who’d just chased away Jimmy and his brother, handed him back the book they’d tried to steal with a smile. _I’m Bucky_ he’d said. _You put up a heck of a fight for a little guy_. He remembers being ten in that long hot summer break when he and Bucky would disappear together from breakfast until supper, scrounging an hours work from anyone who would have them sweeping floors or shifting boxes to get enough coins for candyfloss and a milkshake at Coney Island. When half of Brooklyn felt like it belonged to them and they would laugh so hard Bucky would suddenly get all serious that Steve’s breath was going to catch, start an asthma attack, and that just made Steve laugh more. _Yeah, laugh it up pal. You ain’t the one who’d have to explain to my Ma I let her favourite kid die laughin’ cuz of some stupid face I pulled._

He remembers being fourteen, guts a twisted knot of want and confusion, and just pressing it down deeper. They’d stay over each other’s houses sometimes, especially in the winter when Steve’s mom had to work night shifts because she worried about Steve being on his own. Some nights they’d huddle tight together against the cold under blankets and coats, and Bucky would laugh at his own hard-on like it was nothing, and joke _I can’t help it Stevie, you’re just so pretty_ and Steve would thump him until he giggled his way through an apology. And then one night _hey, the guys at baseball said it’s better when you get someone else to do it – wanna try?_ And then Steve had something else to hide. Not what they did with each other – he knew some of the other boys fooled around, knew it shouldn’t mean anything. But he knew it meant something to him, something that Bucky could never know about, something he could never say out loud.

He remembers later, being so sick with pneumonia he couldn’t even try to hide it, and his Mother had to take time off from the hospital. His whole world was reduced to the heat and sweat and shivering of his bed, too scared to take a proper breath in case he started coughing fire through his lungs again. Bucky was there everyday, switched his shifts at the docks around so his mom could go back to work. There were cool strong hands on his forehead, around the back of his neck, rubbing circles on his back and tapping at his ribs _just like your Ma showed me, Stevie_ to loosen up the muck in his chest. He remembers hot breath on his neck, dampness on his skin as Bucky’s hands were hooked hard and steady around his shoulders, angling his head back to open up Steve’s airway as he came back to himself after an attack, breaths rattling through his chest but it was Bucky’s chest that was shaking flush against his back, Bucky sobbing quietly _don’t you dare, Stevie, don’t you dare you hear me? You’re just gonna keep breathing even if I gotta do it for you_. Two days later Steve had been well enough to be left alone during the day, and Bucky had brought him a bag of huge oranges that had ‘fallen’ out a crate. He sliced one up and sat with Steve while he ate it slow and stuttering, listening to Bucky talking with a swagger and charm he wasn’t quite old enough to pull off.

Steve remembers realising there was something wrong with him, and not having a clue what to do about it other than hide. He knew the way he felt wasn’t right, the way his stomach flipped when Bucky smiled at him, fond and warm while roughing up his hair. He knew what people said about men who went with other men, knew what the Bible said about it too. But he’d thought maybe if it was love, maybe that wasn’t so bad in God’s eyes. He didn’t just want to screw Bucky like the way the boys talked about guys who went with fairies from the other side of town. He felt his heart aching for it, and surely that was love and how could that be all bad. He remembers the claustrophobic silence of the confessional as he held his breath before letting the words out like water through his fingers, and Father Mahoney speaking before he’d even gotten to the end of them. _Like a brother, Steven. You love James like a brother. Three Hail Marys morning and night, and read Romans Chapter 1._

He remembers the rain at his mother’s funeral, how the thick drizzle felt like it was leaching into this chest, soaking his breath like the TB had his Ma. He remembers the solid certainty of Bucky’s body as he held him close, back angled so no one else could see Steve trying not to fall apart, trying to catch his breath, trying to stop the sobs from taking over. Remembers the look on Bucky’s face when the undertaker suggested another pallbearer because Steve wouldn’t be able to take the weight. _Listen buddy, he’s carrying that coffin, and I’m gonna be right behind him. So you’d better sort it out one way or another._ Bucky wouldn’t let him go home to an empty house afterwards, and by then they sort of knew what the other one was saying between their words. _Thanks Buck, but I won’t let you turn me into a burden. Steve, you’re an idiot. Come live with me, where the hell else are you s’posed to be?_

It wasn’t like they hadn’t practically been living together anyway, always in each other’s pockets. Bucky had got his own apartment a year or so before, but since Steve’s mom had gotten sick he’d spent a lot of evenings at theirs. Before she’d gone into the TB hospital he’s stayed over some nights if he didn’t have to work the early shift so Steve could get some sleep. Once she was in the sanatorium and they knew she was never coming back, Steve didn’t like being at home without her.

And Steve didn’t want to go on living in his mother’s place, surrounded by her empty ghost, the kitchen too silent without her humming a tune while she made coffee. He didn’t want to have to avoid her bedroom, echoing with the noise of her choking on her own lungs, the livid red of the blood on the pillow, the way she wouldn’t let him near her when she was coughing, curled up around her shrinking chest, retching pink phlegm into a towel. _James sweetheart, you tell him why he’s got to stay away from me when I’m coughing, he knows why but you got to tell him_ and Bucky’s eyes wet and raw when he’d find Steve crouching in the hallway as usual, close enough to hear but far away enough to not breathe in the poison which was leaching his mother away from him.

So of course he’d moved into Bucky’s two room apartment with a determined _I’ll contribute Buck, I got a steady thing going with the sign writing and it ain’t much but_ and Bucky had rolled his eyes and slapped him on the back and said _sure pal, just stick the notes in the jar and I’ll take you out dancin’, huh?_ Which meant he’d take the money but not hold Steve to it, keep it aside for emergencies, because the docks was hard work but the double shifts Bucky worked paid well, and although they were poor they weren’t dirt poor like Steve would have been on his own. They’d brought Steve’s books and the couch and his narrow bed and a couple of his mother’s things to brighten the place up, and suddenly it was their home and not just a place Bucky slept when he wasn’t at work. An extra chair found it’s place at the Barnes’s Sunday dinner table, and Bucky’s mom would give Steve the extra beef and potatoes and Bucky would pretend to be annoyed and his sister would pinch him and call him mean and they’d all end up laughing about something stupid while Mr Barnes sighed from behind his newspaper.

And it was good. It was good, and Steve was happy, and everything was fine. As long as he kept everything that wasn’t fine hidden.

And usually he could, he was used to pushing down the things he wasn’t supposed to feel, so that most of the time he didn’t even notice he was doing it. So when Bucky came home smelling of smoke and beer Steve could pretend that was the reason he pushed him away when Bucky slung an arm around his neck, and not because of the way the contact made his chest tighten. The same way when it was so cold the ice zigzagged breath-thick on the inside of the windows and Steve’s teeth would chatter in his sleep, he could pretend the rush he felt when Bucky slid into bed beside him was relief that he’d soon warm up and be able to sleep.

He hadn’t been waiting for Bucky to come home, it was just too cold to leave the pile of blankets he’d hidden himself under on the couch. His eyes had been drifting shut for the last hour while the radio played in the background, and his sketchbook had long since slipped to the floor. He heard the keys in the front door and Bucky trying to close it quietly behind him before walking over towards the couch avoiding the loose floorboards on the way.

“Steve, what you doing still up huh? Told you not to wait for me.” he said softly, toeing off his shoes and sitting beside him, immediately pushing his feet under the blankets.

“Wasn’t. Just must of fallen asleep here is all.” Steve replied groggily around a yawn. “You have a good night?”

“Yeah.” Bucky said, crossing his arms. “Rita was askin’ after you.”

Steve didn’t say anything because he knew what was coming next.

“Annie’s still not courting anyone.”

“That a fact.” Steve replied flatly, suddenly much more awake.

“Yeah. Said she’d probably say yes if you asked her out dancin’ again.”

Steve felt his jaw tense, knew Bucky could see it when he shrugged and rushed through the next line.

“I mean, if you wanted to. Could be nice, huh? Come on Steve, don’t give me that look, she’s not so bad.”

“I don’t want to see her, Buck.” Steve said quietly.

“But she’s nice and she really likes you Steve, honestly Rita said so.”

“I don’t want to see her.”

“Why not? So you disagree on some things, so what? It’s not like you gotta talk about that stuff with her anyway -”

“I don’t want to see her, Buck. And that’s that.” Steve snapped, standing up and taking the blankets with him. He was trying to rush out of the room but his knees were stiff from being curled up for so long, so Bucky got in front of him before he made it to the door.

“Steve listen, I know – I know it’s not easy, but I know you really liked her too - and it’s not like you gotta marry the girl.”

“You don’t know anything.” Steve said angrily, pushing past him and heading for the bedroom.

“Don’t be like that, Stevie.” Bucky said pleadingly, but didn’t try to follow him. “I’m just tryin’ to help you find someone.”

“When I want you help I’ll ask for it. And I don’t want it.” Steve crawled into bed and became a mass of blankets with an angry face.

Bucky made a frustrated growl and muttered something about going to the bathroom. By the time he came back Steve was facing the wall and pretending to sleep. But Bucky knew the rhythm of Steve’s breath, knew it like he knew his own heartbeat, so he knew when he was faking. He just didn’t have the balls to call him out on it.

\----------------------- 

Steve must have only been sleeping fitfully, half dreaming and half awake as he tried to curl tighter under the blankets. The winter was settling in, and the weather that week had even kept Bucky at home and away from the bars. It had been nice, the two of them joking over the newspaper, sitting at their scruffy little table eating dinner together, Bucky turning the radio up loud when a song he wanted to dance to came on. But the downside was the drafts which seeped in around the windows even though they stuffed the gaps with paper, the cold floorboards where the threadbare rugs didn’t cover them, the way whatever warmth was in Steve’s bed seemed to suck him back in when he tried to get up in the mornings before the cold walk to the tepid water in the cold bathroom.

He stirred when a wave of cold air hit him, and he must have started whining about it because he only realised he was awake when he heard Bucky’s sleepy voice.

“Alright, your majesty. I can’t sleep with the sound of your teeth chattering, shift over.”

But the far side of the narrow mattress was cold and just made Steve whine some more.

“Buck, s’freezin’ over there.”

“Well c’mere then.” he said, pulling the extra blankets up to their necks as he rolled Steve onto his side and slid in behind him. His arm slid around Steve’s waist and tugged him backwards so Steve could slip his socked feet between Bucky’s calves. “Better?”

“Mmm.” Steve replied, tucking his head down against the pillow.

“Good. Now shut up and go back to sleep.”

Steve had been sleeping in a cosy pocket of warmth, and it was probably still early from the pale light at the window when he woke. Bucky’s face was tucked against the back of his neck and his hard cock was pressing into Steve’s back. Steve felt his stomach skip over with the thrill of it – it had happened often enough and usually Steve elbowed him in the chest or Bucky rolled over with a yawn or a mumbled apology.

Years ago, back before the weight of the meaning of it had settled on Steve’s shoulders, they’d fooled around together when it happened. Steve missed it, the simplicity of pleasure and their competitiveness to do better than the other at providing it. Sometimes if he was particularly sleepy, or if they’d both had a few drinks, he’d tug Bucky back towards him instead and they’d slide their bodies together, almost like they used to. And that was fine, until afterwards when Steve was left with the hollow feeling in his chest as Bucky laughed, shoved him playfully and then Steve was back to the usual way of ignoring the ache of needing something he couldn’t have.

Bucky grunted, almost awake as he pressed his hips harder into Steve.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve said quietly.

“Mmm?”

“You wanna roll over?”

“No, s’warm. You’re good.”

“You wanna..?”

“What?” Bucky said, clearer now as he lifted his head to sleepily look down at Steve. Steve arched his eyebrows and smiled sheepishly, nodding down towards their hips. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

Bucky dropped his head back on to the pillow and shifted back a few inches, stretching through a yawn with one arm reaching up and grabbing hold of the metal headboard.

“You can. If you – like before. If you want.” Steve stuttered through a whisper, the words out of his sleep addled brain before he had chance to stop them.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded quickly into the pillow. “Get these off then.” he said, tugging at Steve’s pyjamas. Steve slipped them down and wriggled out of them as Bucky did the same with his underwear. Bucky’s hand stroked over Steve’s hip, gripped his cock and squeezed. “You’re hard already.” he said.

Steve made an embarrassed noise and buried his head further into the pillow.

“Hey, come on. Come here.” His other arm stretched under Steve and he pulled him back towards him, hand wide over his chest. “I don’t mean nothing by it, just wasn’t expecting it is all.”

Bucky started moving his hand with steady strokes, every now and then twisting over the head of his cock, and Steve couldn’t stop the helpless little moans as he breath kept catching.

“That feel good, Stevie?” Bucky whispered, lips moving against Steve’s neck.

“Yeah.” Steve said, voice tight and quiet. Bucky slid his dick into the cleft of Steve’s ass and sighed as Steve ground his hips back into him.

“Mm, like that.” Bucky said, holding his hand still, gripping Steve’s dick tight so he had to thrust his hips back and forth.

Steve gasped as Bucky held him tighter, pulled him closer, and he was surrounded and falling and drowning in it, the hot flash of pleasure and Bucky’s heavy breath and heartbeat all around him and speeding up for him, because of him. But the friction of Bucky’s cock was starting to burn his skin, and he paused, twisting his head round to see Bucky’s flushed face in the semi-dark.

“Need slick, Buck.” he said, gesturing with his hips.

“Er, I think it’s in the bathroom.” Bucky replied. His eyes were so dark, wide and buzzing like he’d drank too much coffee.

“Well go get it then.”

“I ain’t going to get it, it’s fucking freezing out there. My dick won’t survive the journey.”

“You’re such a jerk.” Steve said, rolling onto his back and grabbing Bucky’s hand and bringing it up to his mouth. Bucky gasped as he licked a thick line from his palm to his fingertips.

“What are you doin’?” he asked, eyes growing even wider.

“What’s it look like, idiot?” Steve replied, lips kissing around his fingers as he got Bucky’s hand wet. He let go of Bucky’s wrist, but Bucky’s hand just stayed there in mid air as he continued to stare at Steve.

“Well go on then.” Steve said, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “What do you want me to do, draw you a diagram?” He rolled over again and pushed his ass back towards Bucky.

Bucky laughed out a surprised breath.

“You are un-fucking-believable, Steven Rogers. Suckin’ on my fingers like a good time girl and expecting me to think straight through it.”

Bucky slid his hand between Steve’s ass, and Steve gasped as his fingers brushed back and forth against his hole. But that wasn’t what they did, so Steve tried to supress the moans that wanted to crawl out of his throat until Bucky got his cock lined up and pressed into the warm slide between Steve’s ass. Bucky went back to stroking Steve’s dick, pulling him back towards him with the down stroke as he thrust forward so the head of his cock pushed into the spot behind Steve’s balls which made him groan.

“Jeez Buck, do that again.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm, like that.”

“God, the way you move Stevie.”

“Christ, I’m gonna -”

“Yeah, come on.”

Steve thrust his hips back and forth until he stilled, moaning as his orgasm rushed through him. Bucky buried his face in Steve’s neck and lost the rhythm of his own hips rolling against Steve. Steve was breathing fast, too fast really as he came back to himself, so Bucky tugged the blankets away from their faces and pulled Steve’s shoulder back against him. His lips were resting beneath Steve’s hairline, his nose buried in the sleepy scent of him with the warmth and peace settling heavy in his belly.

Steve grumbled like an annoyed cat as Bucky cleaned them up and straightened out the blankets.

“Buck, you’re lettin’ all the heat out.”

“Quit whining. Come here.”

Steve tucked himself against Bucky, let sleep and warmth pull him in.

\------------------ 

When Steve woke in the morning it was to Bucky’s hand pressed against his arm. He looked down at him, face slack in sleep and mouth open slightly. He looked younger like this, when he wasn’t trying to be the man he thought he should be, all jokes with the guys and winks for the girls.

Steve loved him. With an ache in his chest and a weight on his back, he loved him even though he didn’t want to, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Anxiety crawled up his spine, that pit-of-stomach dread he was used to by now but which didn’t get any easier. He had to pretend it didn’t mean anything, when they did this. Just guys helping each other out until they found girls to go steady with, no big deal, just messing around. He’d believed it for a while, when Bucky said it he sounded convincing. And for Bucky it wasn’t a lie, that’s all it was for him, all it should be.

He rolled onto his back, tried to slow his breathing. Bucky stirred beside him, making quiet sleepy noises as he resettled, the same noises he’d made since they were kids. Suddenly the enormity of it all was too much for Steve to take and he sat up too quick, stood up too suddenly to get out of bed and away from having to feel this, and his legs started to buckle as his vision disappeared into dots of light.

He must have knocked something over as he went down on his knees, because he was vaguely aware through the watery thudding in his ears that Bucky was talking, voice thick then loud, and then his arms were around Steve and slowly lowering him to the floor and raising up his legs.

“…you know you gotta watch your blood pressure, idiot. What you doin’ charging around first thing, huh? What, you needed a piss that bad?”

“No, just – no.” Steve said weakly, face tingling as the faint began to pass. Bucky shook his head and rolled his eyes, crouching down at Steve’s side as he rested Steve’s legs on his shoulder.

“Shut up. Your brain can’t work right when there’s no blood in your head.”

Bucky’s hand was warm against Steve’s knee, and after a minute he sleepily leant his face against his other knee and closed his eyes, sighing quietly.

“Why you gotta always be trying to prove something, Stevie?”

“Lay off Buck, I only got out of bed too quick, quit fussing.”

“Yeah, and you do stupid stuff you know your body can’t handle all the time.” Bucky snapped, looking square at him and angry suddenly. “How many times you gotta get the shit kicked out of you before you figure out there’s some fights you just shouldn’t pick.”

“I can’t just walk away if I see someone in trouble!”

“Yeah you fucking can, everybody else does! What makes you so special that you gotta wade in to every scrap you see?”

Steve felt that like a slap to the face, and it must have shown because Bucky shook his head and screwed his eyes shut, started apologising.

“I – I didn’t meant that, Steve. You just scare me sometimes, I just worry about when I’m not gonna be around to mop you up and reset your nose and stop you crackin’ your stupid head open next time you faint.”

Steve could feel the gentle prickle of Bucky’s stubble where he’d rested his face against Steve’s leg again. They hadn’t talked about it, not really. But they both knew Bucky would get his draft papers through at some point, it increasingly look like a when and not an if. Steve was going to enlist as soon as it happened, and they definitely didn’t talk much about that because when they did it ended in a shouting match with Mr. O’Rouke upstairs banging on the floor with a broom handle.

“You ain’t gotta worry about that.” Steve said. He moved his legs from Bucky’s shoulder and say upright. The feeling of Bucky’s breath against his skin was getting to be too much.

Bucky looked at him with such resigned sorrow in his eyes it made Steve want to hit him. Instead he crossed his arm against his chest and just glared.

“Whatever you say, pal.” Bucky rubbed both his hands over his face and groaned loudly. “I gotta go to work. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” He got up and reached out a hand to pull Steve up beside him.

Steve closed his eyes against the residual stars in his vision, felt Bucky’s grip hold his secure until he got his balance.

“You’re taking all the stupid with you, jerk.” he said through a tight smile, because he knew it would make Bucky laugh.

“Just as well, punk. You can’t be trusted to handle it on your own.”

Bucky made a goofy face at him until Steve couldn’t help but laugh, then grabbed his work clothes on his way to the bathroom. Steve stood in the empty bedroom, trying not to feel.


	3. Is Moving in Slow Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one complete. Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it. I've started writing part two if anyone wants to read it...? It picks up the story just after Steve rescued Bucky in Italy.
> 
> (Yes, I am in desperate need of validation. Kudos feeds my writing).
> 
> Chapter title from Daughter "How"

They’d been listening to the game on the radio. The Dodgers were going to have an easy win, and they both knew it but it didn’t stop Bucky whooping every time they scored. He was smiling with that steady joy he always seemed to be able to reach for, excited and happy after an unusually lazy Sunday morning with nothing else to do for once other than enjoy the football and maybe take a stroll later, get a milkshake to share.

He looked confused when the bulletin interrupted, but their eye set wide and staring at each other afterwards. Steve turned the dial until they could hear the rest of the reports, conflicting and confusing at first until they could figure out what had happened at Pearl Harbour, then they both sat in heavy silence. Eventually Bucky had slammed his fist on the table, stood up with his hands in his hair and paced the kitchen. Steve just leant back in his chair, stunned.

Steve had said it first, and Bucky had just closed his eyes and shook his head, tension in his shoulders slipping like he’d been expecting it.

“You know there’s plenty of good work you can be doin’ here, Stevie. They still need guys at home to keep everything going, and -”

“Don’t give me that, you know that’s not enough.”

“Why ain’t it? Why you gotta – I mean, why can’t you just -”

“Just what, huh? Come on, say it.”

“Steve, come on. You know what I mean.”

“Do I? What do you mean, Buck?”

Steve had felt the rage raising in his chest, saw the way Bucky flinched from it, knew he was being unreasonable but didn’t care.

“Steve, you don’t need to enlist pal.” Bucky said soft and sad, gaze dropping to the floor.

“And you do.” Steve’s voice was heavy, Bucky could hear the anger in it.

“Yeah.” he replied quietly, not raising his face.

Bucky had stopped trying to talk him out of it by the second time Steve got rejected by the medic. The third time Bucky had come home to find Steve stood at the window, arms crossed and shoulders tense and a screwed up form on the floor by the bin. He made a cup of coffee, clapped his hand on Steve’s back and tried not to let the flinch show on his face when Steve turned and stepped out of reach.

Steve had been quiet for the rest of the night, and Bucky gave up on trying to lighten the mood. This wasn’t Steve sulking from the sting of not getting taken seriously, and it wasn’t his frustrated resignation at accepting he couldn’t pursue something he wanted. His face had a bitter edge to it, sour around his eyes, and if there was one thing Steve had never been it was resentful. He took the crap the world threw at him, brushed himself down after a fall and got straight back up again. When he was angry he was righteous with it, even when he was in the wrong. But this seemed to be hurting him in a way no other rejection ever had, and God knows Bucky had been there to see plenty of other times Steve had been knocked back from something. Sitting there, shoulders hunched as he glared at the newspaper without seeing it, something coarse and nasty settled over Steve. It made Bucky reluctant to challenge the brittle silence between them, so he washed up the dishes quietly, kept the radio volume low and snuck off to bed early after mumbling a goodnight which wasn’t returned.

The next day Steve had seemed more himself. Still mad as hell, but more Steve’s kind of angry, the kind Bucky knew how to work with. Steve only rolled his eyes at him when Bucky spent more than he should have at the butchers, and fried up the sausage and potatoes without comment.

That had been months ago, and this morning’s little fainting incident hadn’t done much to make Bucky feel any better about the fast approaching day he was bound to get his orders. The easy way Steve had opened his body up to him the previous night hadn’t done much to stop Bucky dreading going even more, either. And wasn’t that a stupid fucking thought to have, even more useless than wishing Steve would spend the entire time Bucky was in Europe keeping his stupid fucking mouth shut and his stupid fucking lungs clear.

He punched the button on the winch a bit too hard, earned himself some lip from Pete, a nasty joke from O’Shaunessy and a steady glare from the Foreman. He played it off with his trademark grin, the one that always got him either into or out of trouble and waited ten minutes until they’d all stopped paying attention before he stalked off to have a smoke.

Jacob was a copper haired Irish kid who’d been at their school and never really lost his accent. He offered Bucky his box of matches as he joined him around the back of the warehouse and they passed the time of day, talking about nothing in particular. But the weight of the war was never far from anyone’s minds or conversations lately, and soon enough they were talking about which regiments they might be headed for.

“Is your man Steve still chomping at the bit to go?” Jacob asked, his accent jumping over the vowels. And Bucky knew, even as his heart lurched in his chest, that the turn of phrase was just the Dubliner’s way of saying pal, but the sound of it still made him hesitate and have to cover it with a drag of his cigarette.

“You know Steve, he won’t take no for an answer when he’s got his mind made up.”

“Aye, I remember. Well, he’s about to be the only eligible bachelor in the whole of Brooklyn, so I’m sure he’ll find plenty to keep himself busy with.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Sure, he’ll be grand. He won’t be so keen on it once he starts getting letters back from you saying you’re up to your arse in mud and getting shot at everyday. My cousin from back home’s been in France for a year and that’s all he’s got to say to his Ma.”

“You don’t know Steve that well.” Bucky laughed. “That’d only make him want to get out there even more.”

“Well he’s an eejit then,” Jacob said with a wry smile, tossing his cigarette butt to the ground. “I know what I’d rather be doin’ with my life, and it ain’t traipsin’ off to fight someone else’s bloody war, that’s for sure.”

“See ya, Jake.” Bucky said. He didn’t want to get into another argument about patriotism, not when he already had a headache. He leant back against the rough brick wall, closed his eyes and took a deep drag of his cigarette.

_____________________ 

Bucky took a longer walk home that night, hands in his pockets as he passed by all the familiar places he knew he would be leaving behind. The grocery store where Mr. Clarke used to let them both sweep up and stack the shelves for a quarter on Saturday mornings. The corner on Sullivan where the boys used to loiter, looking for trouble or something to do, where Bucky would flick the hair from his forehead and hold yesterday’s newspaper as though he were reading it. Where Steve would sit behind him, arms folded in on himself, always half frowning like he already had the weight of the world on his shoulders. The God-awful street where Steve had stood all morning in the freezing cold in the bread line the winter Bucky couldn’t seem to hold a job down longer than a week. Steve had coughed so bad after that Bucky was convinced he was going to choke on his own lungs. The moron wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t _sit at home all day while you pound the streets looking for work Buck, ain’t no one gonna give me a job when I can’t lift a wet cat so I gotta do something so we can eat tonight._ Bucky had been tempted to lock him in the apartment the next day, but then he’d got some work at the docks and things had gotten a bit better for them.

He stopped at the entrance to the park, watched the kids chase each other. A group of boys were pretending to be soldiers, fingers held like pistols and _bang bang you’re dead_. They used to come here when they were boys, but Steve’s chest wasn’t so good most of the time so he couldn’t play tag or chase like the rest of them. Mostly he just sat on a bench or under a tree, his notebook on his knee as he sketched something, and the other kids mostly ignored him. Probably because they knew they’d get a black eye from either Steve or Bucky or both if they tried winding up Sissy Steve Rogers about his drawings. Steve was skinny as hell but he was fast with his sharp little fists, and he might end up on the ground after pretty much every fight but the other guys never walked away without some of their own blood on their faces.

They still came here in the spring and summer, and Steve still brought his sketchbook. Bucky would lay down beside him, arms bend under his head as he dozed in the shade of the tree. Nothing but them and the world; the birds chattering and the dogs barking and the kids shouting, and Steve’s pencil scritching on the paper. And Bucky would slit one eye open just enough to see because he was a cheat at heart, and even though he knew he couldn’t let on he’d seen the way Steve made his sorry mug look beautiful like art, he still wanted to see it. Always wanted to ask _is that really how you see me Stevie? You make me look good, like someone worth it_. But he was a cheat and a coward, because he never said one word about it when Steve would hastily flick the page over to a half finished cityscape if Bucky stirred from feigning sleep. He never had the balls to tell him _because that’s why I try to be someone worth it, because you make me want to be a better man. You make me want. And ain’t that a kick in the teeth._

He pushed that thought away, and with it the quiet clawing apprehension that this was what he was going to be sailing away from. And yeah, he was leaving it behind so he could go and defend it, so it would all still be here, safe and sound for him to come back to. He was leaving because it was the right thing to do, because the Nazis had to be stopped just like any bully had to be stopped. And if the price of that was the pain and worry his mother had tried to hide from her eyes lately, the way his stomach seemed to skip over itself every now and then when the thoughts about what lay ahead of him solidified in his mind, the resentment and the confusion and the wondering which was all wrapped up around Steve – then that was that and nothing else to it. Because if there was anything Steve Rogers insisted on it was doing the right thing, no matter what the cost. Because Bucky had at some point a long time ago started orbiting all his thoughts and morals around Steve’s.

He walked the rest of the way home counting his steps to one hundred and back again, the way his Ma had taught him when he was little and couldn’t seem to calm himself down. He took the stairs two at a time, just wanted to sling his arm around Steve’s bony shoulders, pull him close and scruff his hair until he huffed about it, needed that stability of the world being ok again for a little while. But Steve didn’t answer when he called hello from the door.

There was a letter on the table, leant upright against the salt pot. Bucky didn’t need to open it to know it was his orders.

 _________________

Steve was sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the bit of paper Erskine had given him, reading and rereading the address of where he had to go tomorrow. It was fine, it was going to be fine, Bucky was leaving in the morning so Steve didn’t even have to tell him about it. And then he’d be shipping out soon enough too, he finally had the chance to prove himself, and then the two of them could be fighting the same fight just like always, because that was all he wanted.

He heard Bucky’s footsteps on the stairs and quickly hid the letter under his mattress. Bucky came in through the front door, caught Steve’s eye and smiled that cocky half smile of his, and Steve’s stomach flipped over and everything was too real now, too sudden after all the waiting.

“You missed a hell of a party, Steve.” Bucky said, flipping his cap off his head and standing tall in the bedroom doorway. He looked amazing. Square shouldered, army uniform cutting in at his waist, sharp seam down his trousers. He was every inch a soldier, and something twisted in Steve’s guts as his breath caught at the sight of him. “It’s like half the city thinks the world’s ending tomorrow and they want to go out of it dancing.”

“How’d you get on dancing with both our dates?”

Bucky laughed, gave him a knowing look.

“Wore them out.”

“Yeah, right. She wasn’t interested in dancin’ with me anyway.”

“Steve, you literally gave her peanuts.” Bucky said, spreading his arms wide and smiling, pausing for dramatic effect. “You still got no idea how to talk to women.”

Steve smiled back, but Bucky’s gaze lingered on him when he saw it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey, how’d you get on at the recruitment centre?

“How’d you think?” Steve said with a self-deprecating smile. Because that wasn’t really lying, was it.

“Steve, you gotta just accept it eventually.” Bucky walked across the room to stand in front of him. He looked down, face concerned and placating, voice with an edge of authority lent by the uniform. “Please. Tell me you’re gonna quit it now.”

Steve looked at the floor, guilt starting to flair in his chest because he knew he should tell Bucky. But he couldn’t stand for the last night before he left to descend into arguments and shouting. Bucky crouched down, looking up at Steve through his eyelashes, eyes full of affection and pleading, and he was devastating like this.

“Please Stevie.”

“Yeah, ok Buck.”

Bucky put his hand on Steve’s knee, squeezed tight and patted his leg as he stood up.

“Great.” he said, like they just chose which movie they were going to go see at the weekend. Like everything was normal instead of this strange limbo of watching something looming closer until it’s so far up in your face you can’t even see it any more. “Hey, how do you s’pose I gotta fold these pants so they don’t loose that crease by the morning?”

“You don’t fold them, idiot. You gotta hang them, give them here.”

“What, so I gotta take a coat hanger with me? You don’t hang them, you just gotta fold them right on the seam.”

“Well what are you asking me for if you already know how to do it? Don’t sweat it Buck, I’m sure it’s the first thing they’ll cover before you ship out.”

“Ah shut up, wiseass. You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

Steve saw on Bucky’s face that he realised straight away what he’d said. That he’d broken the glass-thin illusion that this was just another night of them grousing and messing about before bed. Like in the morning they’d both be up to do it all again, instead of standing on the edge of the last hours they had like this, that maybe they’d never have this again.

And Bucky was supposed to grin, tousle Steve’s hair or shove his shoulder, lighten the mood like he always did when the silence settled too heavy between them. But he paused, face still and eyes fixed somewhere near the ground, and Steve couldn’t stand it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

Steve turned away, went into the kitchen and started moving things around, putting cups away just to cover the way his eyes were brimming and his breath was catching. He sat at the table with his back to the bedroom door and listened as Bucky carried on getting ready for bed, waiting to hear his footsteps behind him and feel his hand warm and broad on his back. But the lamp clicked off, and the springs in Bucky’s mattress screeched as he lay down, and Steve held his head in his hands and waited for the tears to pass.

 _________________

By the time Bucky was ready to leave in the morning Steve was on his second cup of coffee. They’d stepped around each other carefully, talking like normal as though Bucky had his overalls on and was about to go to the docks instead of sat there in his uniform, about to leave and maybe not come back.

Steve felt it in his chest, this dread which had been building for months now tugging at his ribs, making each minute stretch and pull at his throat until he stopped replying to Bucky’s chatter, couldn’t trust his voice not to betray him, and instead just smiled or nodded, hating the silence stretching between them until Bucky drained his cup and put it on the table. Steve stared at it, because that was it now wasn’t it. He’d leave, and there’d be that empty cup still there on the tatty wood but no Bucky here to do a bad job of cleaning it.

“Well. I gotta go, pal.” Bucky smiled half a smile, tapped his hands on his thighs like he had to force them to pay attention.

“Yeah.”

Bucky stood, gestured at Steve and Steve’s legs felt shaky but they held him. Bucky pulled him close, arms tight on his back and the uniform was rough against Steve’s face, against his forehead where he pushed himself closer, the callouses on his fingers catching on the jacket where he clung on so tight.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Whispered, too much feeling in the words spoken into Steve’s hair.

Steve managed to straighten his face out when Bucky stepped back and stooped to pick up his bag.

“I’ll be seeing you, Buck.” he said, voice catching on his name, and Bucky’s eyes were red rimmed too as he smiled back, nodded in agreement at all the words they weren’t saying, and turned and walked away through the front door.

Steve felt the chair hit his ass before he registered he was sitting down again, face in his hands and tears spilling, his breath getting all caught up in his chest as he forced the sobs back down. He pulled it in, elbows on the table, fingers in his hair until he could focus again, pushed it down and let out a long shaky breath through his mouth. Opened his eyes and saw that fucking cup.

But there were footsteps in the hall and the door opened fast, and Bucky shoved it closed behind him and was stood there again, looking straight at him. And Steve couldn’t even try to hide the fact that he’d been crying like a dame, so he just huffed a laugh at how stupid he must look, rolled his eyes and smiled even though it felt like it was breaking him, he smiled at this man who was everything and was leaving.

“What, you forget something you moron?”

Bucky dropped his bag and walked straight to him, hands on either side of Steve’s jaw as Steve stood up beside him, fingers in his hair as he leant down and kissed him, breath caught between their mouths as Steve kissed him back. He pressed forward and up on his toes and his tongue was moving slow against his lips, and then Bucky was holding him even closer and kissing him firmer and sure, and not like when he kissed the girls he dated, all cocky charm and smiles, but like it mattered. Like it meant something. Like Steve figured kissing was supposed to be.

Bucky pulled back, hands by his sides, eyes heavy and red around the edges as he looked at Steve. He opened his mouth to say something, but Steve could see the words wouldn’t form. So Steve watched, silent and lips parted and still slick from Bucky’s mouth as Bucky grabbed his bag and turned around. Steve listened to his footsteps down the stairwell, stood there in their shitty little kitchen as he heard the main door slam and Bucky walking away.


End file.
